


Include

by harcourt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, I wrote this for the kinkmeme, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, plus Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harcourt/pseuds/harcourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/13316.html?thread=31028228#t31028228">the misfire prompt</a>:</p>
<p>
  <i>I'm not exactly sure what this is, but I think I want it.</i>
</p>
<p>Tony walks in on a solid half of the team getting down. Without him. In the living room. And it's not that he doesn't know what it <i>is</i>, it's just that he wasn't expecting it.</p>
<p>Or Thor's utter lack of shame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Include

**Author's Note:**

> I don't write a whole ton of sex, but I think some of the longer fic might need it, if I can wrangle them in that direction, so I took this misfire prompt as an opportunity to practice. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know if I'm messing it up.

"I'm not exactly sure what this is," Tony says, smirking as he leans in the door, suit jacket thrown over his shoulder and kept there with just one finger hooked in the collar, "but I think I want it."

Actually, he's pretty sure he knows _exactly_ what this is, and he's not sure if he's more impressed by the way Clint watch-my-own-back Barton is clearly distracted enough that he jumps into evasive manoeuvres at the comment and falls off the couch, cracking his elbow hard on the way down, or by the fact that wholesome Steve is there at all, shirtless and with his pants clearly on their way to off, their button undone, though Clint hadn't gotten the zipper down yet. 

Thor, Tony had no real expectations about. Thor was generally a random factor anyway, so finding him buck ass naked and in their _living room_ wasn't really shocking. 

The whole threesome thing? That's a bit shocking. Or at least unexpected.

"Go away, Tony," Clint snaps, from someplace out of sight on the floor. His voice is tight. Tony doesn't go.

"I believe this is a public space," Tony tells him, "which makes this a public show."

"You're not even supposed to _be_ here," Clint snaps, the top of his head becoming visible again. He's clearly rubbing his smacked elbow, but Tony can only really see him from the eyes on up. 

"I _believe_ I live here too," Tony returns, settling into his lean. He's careful about when he makes the _my tower_ jokes at Clint or Steve, the displaced urchins. He wanted them to feel welcome and like this was their home. Clearly, that was a success.

Possibly, they feel a bit _too much_ at home. 

Thor on the other hand, Tony figures, possibly just has no social boundaries, because he's the only one who looks unperturbed, his face a mix of amused and _be_ mused as he hauls Clint back off the floor. 

"I thought you were at a conference?" Steve says, his voice mild but obviously hiding embarrassment. It's maybe three seconds later that he has his shirt back on, but it's rumpled and inside-out. Clint disappears again, this time behind the backrest, probably retrieving his own clothing from the floor, but Thor grabs for him and pulls him back. His squawk is hilariously undignified.

"Why this shame in front of our shield brother?" Thor wants to know. His voice is gentle, like he thinks lack of exhibitionist tendencies could only be caused by something dire and is treading carefully and Steve opens his mouth like he's about to explain, then closes it again. 

"Steve's shy," Clint offers, and with a glance at Tony, "And Stark is an ass."

"I can't believe you waited till I was away to do this," Tony says, putting as much hurt into his voice as he can muster while trying not to laugh, "Is it because I'm not a blond? Wait till Bruce gets up here and sees how we've been _ostracized_."

"Oh god. _Bruce_ is back, too?" Clint asks, and tries to squirm out of Thor's grip. Thor doesn't let go. He does bend his head to kiss Clint's neck, which makes Clint flush and twitch awkwardly, aware of their audience.

" _Thor_ ," he hisses, but even Steve, safely dressed now, looks amused at Clint's intercultural relationship problem.

Clint gives him an annoyed look and looks like he's about to give _Steve_ a piece of his mind, too, but then Thor does something that makes Clint shut up, his crabbing turning to a choked garble in his throat. Tony says, "Of _course_ Bruce is back, too. We were presenting together. What is this? You have an orgy without us _and_ you forget what we share about our lives? Team brunet is very sad."

Steve laughs. "Team brunet?" he says, "There are no teams, Tony."

"Oh? Because it seems like there's some unfair division--"

Clint makes a choked whining noise that turns into a strange gurgle, then tries to elbow Thor. Says, "Jesus _Christ_. Get _lost_ , Tony. Or--or get Thor off me." Then, when Tony decides to take him up on that and starts to walk over, takes it back, "Whoa, whoa. On second thought, stay where you were."

"Stay, go, stay, go. I'm getting mixed messages here, Barton."

Thor's mouth twitches into a broad smile as he adjusts Clint, moving him like he weighs nothing. "Stay," he says, voice deep and a little husky as he makes Clint hiss again, his eyes fluttering closed even though that hiss sounded like protest. Steve has a similar smug look as he watches Clint's face, as Clint's pissy annoyed expression falls away into a soft, open-mouthed look. He puts his fingers to Clint's face, stroking his cheek with his thumb then pressing it against Clint's lower lip.

Tony feels a comment bubbling up, but swallows it down because nope. He can't really deal with that look on Clint's face, or the one on Steve's. He almost wants to look away, but Steve's saying, "Come on, Clint. It's _Tony_. It's just Tony."

Even Steve's won over to the side of Asgardian debauchery. Thor's a fucking danger to the team. Tony would never have guessed that Clint would be the hold out in this kind of situation. At least, not over Steve.

Not that he'd thought about this kind of situation. Much.

"Come on, Clint," he says, "tag me in."

Clint's laugh is half pant. Tony's dying to go over and see what Thor is doing to him that's making him breathe like that, that's making him hold himself like that--Like he can't decide whether to tense or relax and has no control over it anyway. "Think I'm switching out with you now?" he asks, then groans and tries to bite the sound off. 

"Well," Steve says, and his thumb slides into Clint's mouth, "you are the one who's against this."

Clint looks _really_ against it, flushed and letting Steve stroke the pad of his thumb over the tip of his tongue and over his lip. "Fine," he says and looks over again, "but no smart ass comments."

"Deal," Tony says, and tosses his jacket over a sidetable as he comes over, undoing his cuffs so he can roll his sleeves up. He pats Thor's back as he passes, feeling his muscles shift at the feel of cold fingers. It's almost funny to have Thor jerking away from such a light touch, and Tony grins. "Sorry. It was _freezing_ out."

"Pretty warm in here," Steve offers, which is a pretty transparent invitation to get naked really, but he follows it by asking Clint, "Going to let Tony play, or just watch?" so Tony delays getting down to his birthday suit for a few more minute.

Clint grins, "Oh god," he says, against Steve's thumb, "Captain America thinks _I'm_ the one with group sex hang-ups."

"You _are_ the one with group sex hangups," Tony tells him, forgetting the _no comments_ deal already. Clint hums a non-committal response, but maybe he doesn't have _that_ many hang-ups, because now that Tony's taken a seat on the edge of the coffee table--more than close enough to touch--he can see that what Thor's been doing all this time is casually sliding two fingers in and out of Clint, keeping him from moving away with his other arm around his middle, his fingers pressed against Clint's ribs. It looks like a loose embrace, but it's deceptive. Thor's strong enough that Clint's effectively trapped, if that's what Thor's intention is.

Clint groans as Thor's fingers twist back into him, and Steve smiles and uses his grip on Clint's chin to tilt his face towards Tony, so he can watch the way Clint's eyes flutter closed at the invasion, the way his brow tightens when Thor scissors his fingers.

"We were going to have the Hawk take us both," Thor says, and Clint's breath hitches as he slides his fingers out again, then back in, fast. Tony finds a new level of respect for Clint and maybe retracts his _group sex hangups_ comments. 

"The two of _you_?" he asks, and pats Clint's head. His hair is damp with sweat, "Good job, Barton. I'm impressed."

"No commentary," Clint gasps, and Steve smiles.

"That's Clint's job," he tells Tony.

"Fair enough. So whats the plan _now_? Sticking to what you had, and I get this front row seat, or--"

"Just do _something_ ," Clint grits, "Don't just keep fucking chatting while Thor--"

"Thor?" Tony prompts, with a grin, and Clint shoots him a poisonous look. It's filled with impending ejection, so Tony opens his mouth to take it back, but before he can Steve cuts in with, "While Thor what, Clint?" 

Well. Steve, the naughty filthy boy. 

Clint pulls his head away from Steve's grip to look away, his nose wrinkling as he laughs. Steve grins at it, then takes Clint's face in both hands. Pulls him back in to kiss him just as Thor slides his fingers out and slides in three. "While Thor fucks me with his damn fingers," Clint whispers. It sounds like he can't get enough air to project more volume than that, but he's grinning against Steve's mouth, "Cap."

"Plan. What's the plan?" Tony pushes, even though he's the guest here. Maybe just the audience. 

"How about--" Steve starts, but Thor's clearly decided he's the planning section of this party, because he pulls out of Clint--who protests, cursing as he tries to push back--and uses both hands to grasp him by the hips, holding him out as if in offer.

"Come then, Tony Stark," Thor says, with that matter of fact I-don't-get-the-big-deal amused tone.

"Hey," Clint complains, but Steve shrugs and scoots away to make room, then switches places with Tony. 

"I, first," Thor offers, while Steve leans back on his arms on the coffee table. Except for the way his shirt is still an inside-out wrinkled mess, he could be watching a movie. And innocent movie. His blue eyes look amused as fuck. Tony's been underestimating Captain Boyscout all this time. "And then you and Steve, or you could have my mouth," a nip at the curve of Clint's neck, "or his. Or we leave the Hawk to our captain and make our own amusement."

Clint jerks like he's trying to get relief from the air and drops his upper body so he's supported on his hands, then goes to his elbows, Thor still holding him by the hips, keeping his ass up. "You're killing me," he says, and squirms until Thor lets him go and he can wriggle closer to Tony.

Tony starts to make a joke, then rubs Clint's shoulder instead. There's bite marks there, probably from before he walked in. He's missed a few more scenes of this party of blonds than he'd thought. "Hey, Clint."

"Hi," Clint's tone is dry as he fumbles at Tony's belt. "Come on. Thor has epics worth of suggestions. If you wait for him to get through them it'll be next week before--"

There's a huff of laughter from Steve, short and warm like the complaint is familiar. The open affection between him and Clint is somehow surprising and not. There's none of their usual mutual antagonism--or really, Clint's antagonism, and Cap's long suffering exasperation--which is maybe what's stranger, more than the clear fondness. 

And then Clint has Tony out of his slacks and in his mouth, not in one quick move like Tony was expecting based on Clint's impatience, but slowly. Taking time to ease off and then back on, taking him further each time until Thor puts his hand on the back of Clint's neck and pushes him all the way down, slow but with smooth insistence, holding him there a second before letting him up.

"Jesus," Tony chokes, then groans when Thor does it again, and then again. "Oh my god, you--Clint, oh my _god_."

Clint struggles eventually, pushing against Tony with his hands, but it's for show, because when Tony bats Thor away, he comes up grinning. "Kiss Thor," he breathes, like the brilliance of this idea is what's made him stop sucking Tony's cock, "I wanna--"

"Whatever you say, Barton," Tony grins, "Looks like you're the boss of this rodeo, huh?"

Steve laughs at that, calm like he's perfectly happy to sit back and watch as Thor leans over Clint's back to meet Tony's mouth with his own. His hand comes up to cup Tony's face, his touch light but powerful at the same time. The amount of power he's clearly holding back is sexy as fuck, but before Tony can really get into it, Clint is struggling between them.

"You're _crushing me_ , Thor."

"You just feel left out," Steve heckles, un-Steve like, "Why don't you come here?"

Clint makes a last protest, even though the kiss was his idea, and is then all elbows and hard edges as he extricates himself, sliding away, letting Thor and Tony's bodies press together, filling the space he's left. 

Thor snags him one-handed as he goes, and breaks off to kiss his face, sloppy and weirdly innocent considering it turns out Thor is an orgy mastermind, and then he lets Clint go and turns back to Tony. 

It's somehow weird to kiss Thor. To feel his full beard against his face and under his fingers, and to feel his hands sliding under his shirt, careful not to pop buttons. It's that last that's really odd. Thor is capable of surprising delicacy considering his penchant for rough manners and enthusiastic destruction. His hands are gentle on Tony's sides, stroking lightly--being careful with humans, maybe even though none of them here are particularly fragile specimens.

Tony hears a couple of thumps and then a murmur from Steve and when he comes up from the kiss to look, Clint has Steve pushed over backwards and Steve's shirt is gone again. Or not so much gone as half-pulled off, tangled around his arms with Clint using the fabric to pin him, leaning his weight onto it.

For as long as Steve lets him, anyway, because Clint isn't anywhere near super-serum strong, and as soon as Steve decides to turn the tables, he's up again, tossing the shirt, Clint splayed over his lap. "Tony?" he asks, nodding at Clint. 

"I have a god and you think I'm gonna trade?" Tony asks. Clint glares poison and Thor chuckles, a low rumble that's both charming and hot as hell. 

"Steve wants to play match the humans," Clint says, and maybe means that Tony is trade-down too, compared to Super Captain, but there's a smirk at the corner of his mouth despite his pissy tone and it's not like Tony's opposed to any arrangement, or combination of arrangements, that they could come up with. 

"I'd like to hear it from mister protest first," Tony says, because Clint's obviously complaining for the hell of it, but there's always the chance there's a kernel of truth in his grumbling. Clint makes an annoyed sound.

"I want you to fuck me, Tony," he says, seriously, "for Captain America."

"Oh. Well. If it's for _Captain America_ ," Tony says, and shrugs and Steve deposits Clint back with him and Thor. 

Or really with him, because Thor scoots back to lean against the far armrest like a big lion, hair a tangled mane from having Tony's fingers in it, and Clint in the V of his legs, making impatient faces at Tony.

"Lube?" Tony asks, and Clint shrugs.

"I'm ready," he says, but Steve searches for something in the mess of clothes on the floor and tosses it over.

"The captain says safety first," Tony says, holding up tube and condom and Clint makes another impatient sound and snatches both away. "And here I thought you were the one against this," Tony smirks, as Clint rolls the condom onto him, and uncaps the lube, with impatient efficiency.

"It is more enjoyable to watch if you don't hurry," Thor says, and steals the tube right out of Clint's hand.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Clint says, but lets Thor slick him back up, making sure he's still loose enough. Drawing it out until Clint's squirming and cursing.

"This is going to kill _me_ ," Tony says, when Clint moans into his ear, breathy and low like someone used to keeping quiet, "Clint. Come _on_ , Thor."

"Go," Thor says, with a sharp pat to Clint's rump. Clint swears, and even with the _no smartass comments_ deal, Tony can't help but think of suggestions involving smacks to Clint's rear end but before he can make any of them, Clint's sinking onto him, hands braced on Tony's shoulders as he lowers himself. 

And then Tony's fully inside him, and Steve's hands are all over the both of them, and he's murmuring Steve bullshit, saying "Sweetie," and "Got you, we've got you both," and "Slowly, Clint."

"Slowly," Clint grouches, "You lazy bastards just want a fucking show," but he complies, raising and dropping himself in what would be languid and easy motions, except that he looks like he's _dying_. 

Tony feels about the same way. Says, "Ignore them. I thought you were running this thing? Audience doesn't get a say," and Thor laughs and asks, "Audience?"

And then he's pushing a finger in alongside Tony, pushing Clint forward to do it.

"Fuck. Fuck," Clint mumbles, and Tony slides a hand into his hair as he shifts uncomfortably.

"Thor's still going for it, huh?" he asks, as Clint drops his head against his shoulder, then shakes it _no_. 

"Tough guy says no," Steve says, in case Thor missed it, and there's a sound of assent, but Thor doesn't withdraw either. 

Clint doesn't seem worried, drawing back after a little to kiss the corner of Tony's mouth, then lick his way inside.

"Mm," Tony hums into it. Thor's fingers feel weird, but also make Clint impossibly tight when they slide in. Clint groans every time they do, then starts to move again, this time slow because of the added stretch. 

Then Thor says, "Faster," and there's the sound of him giving Clint another quick pat. The sound of Steve chuckling and then letting his breath out loudly when Clint picks up the pace, making soft sounds every time Tony rocks up to meet him. Then there's the scrape of furniture and the feeling of movement that is neither him nor Clint before Thor's fingers leave and then the sound of heavy breathing close by.

Clint pants, "What are they doing?" and Tony glances past him, but all he can see is Steve's back. 

"Dunno. Do you _care_? Move it," and Clint does, eyes shut and mouth open as he pants, out on each down stroke, like he's punching the air out of himself. 

Tony grabs his leg, fingers biting into his Clint's kin as he bucks up into him, and then he's shouting and Clint's trying to muffle it by pressing their mouths together. Tony's pretty sure he only manages to crush his lip against one of Tony's teeth, because he makes a hurt sound and when Tony collapses under him and can focus his eyes again, he's pressing the back of a hand to his mouth.

"Aw, baby," Tony mumbles at him, still seated inside him and rolling his hips lazily.

"Go to sleep and I'll kill you," Clint says.

"Wanted to fuck your mouth," Tony tells him, "Maybe Thor's"

"Life's full of disappointment," Clint says, rocking against him, obligingly slowing to Tony's after-shocks pace. Tony can see why Thor and Steve like the slow show. Clint looks amazing when he's holding back, mussed and impatient and thrumming with the need to move. Letting Tony gather himself. Tony would kiss him, but Clint's lip looks like it might actually be cut.

"I can't believe this is what you get up to when me and Bruce are off educating the nation's youth," Tony manages, and wraps a hand around Clint, stroking him lazier than anything Thor could order. Clint's breath turns into a long, broken whine that gets swallowed by Steve's string of exclamations and, a moment later, Thor saying something in Asgardian, a calm, but garbled rise and fall that is probably post-orgasmic nonsense.

"Assholes," Clint says, still hard and panting and now trying to rut against Tony, "Assholes, all of you."

"You did say _no_ ," Steve points out, teasingly, and Clint pulls away from Tony to sprawl backwards. 

"Not to _everything_ ," Clint complains, and where ever Steve and Thor retreated to, Steve's suddenly back and manhandling Clint until he's leaning back against Tony, pushing them together again to make space so that Steve can lay across the couch with his feet hooked over the armrest that Thor had been lounging against earlier. He wraps a hand around Clint, stroking a few times, then swallowing Clint in one smooth, practiced move.

Tony had _definitely_ been underestimating Cap.

Clint bucks and drops his hands into Steve's hair, breathing fast in small hitching moans. Most of Tony's lovers have been pretty comfortable being vocal, but something about Clint's stubborn quiet hits him in the gut, and he leans to kiss and bite at his neck, feeling the vibration of Clint's held back moans under his lips. 

And then Clint jerks hard against him and makes a low, strangled groaning sound, bucking into Steve's mouth and then relaxing into a low, mumbled string of curses and nonsense.

Steve props himself up on his elbows and grins, looking boyish and pleased with himself, with Clint's hands still in his hair, but playing lazily now, and says, "I said we've got you, didn't I?" and swings one foot a little in what looks like childish pleasure. It's an odd gesture in his broad, muscular body, and Tony can almost see the slender, non-super Steve in it. See a guy not used to taking up so much space.

Clint mumbles and his hands slide off Steve's head and over his shoulders, pulling Steve closer for a second. Tony can't make out what they're saying with Steve's head momentarily pressed against Clint's belly, but it's probably something filthy because when Steve looks up he has that innocent boyscout look and Clint's hands are all over his face, careful like Thor.

And then Clint slides out from between them and tumbles himself to the floor to lie there and prop his head against Thor, who is in turn leaning against an arm chair, looking like a big lazy cat, smirky and satisfied, though maybe not for long, because the way he's looking down at Clint has more than a spark of interest it. There's probably a reason Thor's suggestions go into next week. Thor's probably a fucking _monster_. This little Avengers collection Tony's stumbled into is probably _Thor's_ collection, and he's probably started it for a reason. 

He takes Clint's amused murmur as a sign that he's on the mark, and a minute later Thor's hand is on Clint's hip, stroking in that way that Tony will now always think of as the _please please can we have an orgy_ way. He's even turning the eyes on again, but Clint huffs and rolls over so he doesn't have to look.

Steve scoots further up to lie against Tony, even though Tony's pretty gross now and is mostly trying to find someplace to ditch the condom that won't make him seem like he's too disgusting a slob. Dropping it to the floor is kind of out.

"Educating the youth, huh?" Steve says, making inane small talk, maybe. Tony grins.

"Well, this was pretty educational, if in a very different way. I hope Thor does presentations though, because--"

But before he can finish, the elevator pings and Bruce's voice says, "What happened to _meet you in the lab_?" And, a second later, "Well. I don't know what _this_ is--"

"Fuck off," Clint says, "You're too late."


End file.
